It's nice to know I haven't lost my touch
by RogericZ23
Summary: What really went through the Master's mind when he met his future incarnation? How did he really feel, looking upon the body of a woman, realising it was going to be him one day? Thoughts that ran through his head during each of their interactions will be addressed.


_**A grubby man in dirty overalls fiddles with a television monitor mounted on a portable cabinet. A young girl of around twenty five stands behind him, hair done up in her signature afro as she peers over to survey his work.**_

"Why did it turn off, can't you get the picture back?"

The annoying girl's voice was ringing in his ear again. Even after 2 years it took him a while to recall her name. Buck? Ben? Bill? It was probably the latter, but it didn't interest him that much. Usually, croaking out "my dear" was enough to shut her up, but today, with the flesh mask getting tight with sweat and that irritating nurse becoming even more insistent that he get to work, the Master was in no mood to indulge her.

"It turned off, there's nothing I can do" he rasped in that harsh blend of Russian and German accents he had developed.

"But the picture was just about to change, please get it up for me!" Her pleas were irritating so he gave up the pretence and slapped the monitor with the back of his hand, bringing back the image.

This time, that woman with the messy hair in the Victorian garb had popped up again. She was saying something to the decrepit grey-haired figure he had long figured out to be the Doctor.

 _The Doctor._ Just thinking of his nemesis sent a spasm of rage through the Master as he took in his dank, squalid surroundings again. Then again, looking at the irritatingly bright-faced girl beside him, the renegade Time Lord knew that he had one chance to avenge this indignity.

"Oh, its her again." Turning to face Bill, he noticed that she was beginning to tremble. How odd, since the girl usually showed that usual irritating bravery which most the Doctor's pets did.

"No need to fear my dear. She is at top. We are at bottom," baring a toothless grin to reassure her.

Bill glanced at him, and folded her arms uneasily. "You don't understand. You don't know who she is."

"But I _do_ my dear, you have told me. She is a murderer yes? You said she enjoys it, no? But she is far away. No need to worry." It took all his willpower not to encourage her fears, but the fake consolation seemed to be calming her, even as she strode off to lounge on the threadbare couch.

"Yeah, I know," she muttered. "But it's because of her that I'm even in this mess."

"How do you mean?"

Sighing, she looked him in the eyes. "My friend, he wanted to take her on….a trip. He thought that testing her was a good idea, that it would help her prove she'd become good somehow."

She chuckled bitterly. "Well you can see how that turned out," gesturing to her chest unit.

He frowned and sat next to her, an idea beginning to take shape. Could it be possible?

"So she is a friend of you friend yes? From when they were children yes?"

Bill's face registered surprise. "Uh yeah, that was quick. But apparently they've been friends for a while. She was his man-crush apparently."

A strange sense of excitement began to stir in his chest but he still feigned ignorance.

"What is it that you mean my dear by this term "man-crush?" She is a woman no?"

Bill shifted uncomfortably on the bristly couch. "Not sure really. Apparently they're not human."

The Master was now basically bending over her, sweat beading on his forehead beneath the mask. He realised her discomfort but blatantly ignored it this time. "Then what are they?"

Bill was laning back to prevent them from touching and answered nervously. "They're something called Time Lords. It's what my friend called them at least."

He slouched back onto the couch, breath escaping him. Bill had regained her composure and was eyeing him oddly. "Wait, I never asked, but you are human aren't you?"

Forcing himself to smile, the Master stared at her and answered ominously. "Why of course my dear. What else would I be?"

This woman was almost certainly him. A future incarnation possibly. This woman was the Master.

 _ **The scene fasts forwards to the Master in his "Razor" disguise, perching behind a crate as the Doctor, Missy and Nardole arrive. He watches as the Doctor issues commands to his female incarnation, curling his lip in disgust at her lack of objection.**_

"I need information on this ship," the Doctor ordered curtly. What a weak gravelly voice this incarnation had. The Master took some pleasure in the fact that "Missy" was at least younger than this ancient version of the Doctor. That was if she was who he supposed

"Got it" replied the fat bulbous man-child. Nardole as he recalled.

"No, Missy you do it."

He smirked as Nardole looked offended by this unprecedented decision "But I'm the computer guy that's always me!"

"Sorry, she's cleverer," the Doctor replied curtly.

"She's more evil."

"Same thing," Missy answered nonchalantly.

As she perched over the console, he took notice of the way he set to the task effortlessly. At least he hadn't become incompetent.

"It really isn't" he heard the Doctor retort.

"But it is. Really is. A little bit the same."

Biting his lip, the Master remained hidden to avoid leaping out and openly spitting on this pathetic verbal sparring. Was this what he had become?

Thankfully, the Doctor and Nardole disappeared seconds later, and a giddy grin broke over his face as he slowly crept out behind her.

"Hello."

She glanced back and he enjoyed the cold lack of attention she paid him as she returned to the work at the console.

"Hello, ordinary person. Please maintain a minimum separation of three feet. I'm really trying not to kill anyone today and it would be tremendously helpful If your major arteries were…out of reach."

The threat was casual, but laced with an unmistakeable ring of truth. He permitted himself a joyful clap at this oh so familiar viciousness. Nonetheless, some doubts still lingered in the back of his mind at her almost docile reaction.

"I have been so looking forward to meeting you!" he exclaimed enthusiastically.

Missy remained staring with concentration at the console screen. "Is that so? Well, I'm very happy for you," she replied disinterestedly.

"I was watching on the screen" he continued. "It took me a while to figure out who you were."

Perhaps it wasn't him he mused as Missy didn't even bother addressing him this time. Even as she hacked the ship's information banks with consummate ease, the lack of violent response was beginning to concern him. They remained like that in silence for a few moments as she read through the data that came up.

"Well, this is super interesting. I assumed this ship was from Earth, full of squishable little humans…but it's not from Earth at all is it?"

"You don't remember being here do you?" enquiring cautiously.

"I've never been here before will you stop _wittering_ on or I'll have to splat your brains for finger paint." The threat was encouraging and he continued with renewed vigour.

"Oh you have been here before, you really can trust me on that."

Paying him no heed, she continued muttering under her breath. "Which planet, which planet, which, which planet is it?"

As a result, when Mondas flickered onto the screen, he took immense pleasure in scrutinising her shocked expression. "Look at that this ship is from Mondas."

Fingering the gun under his jacket, he decided it was time for the final test as Missy sprung lithely to her feet, snatching up the umbrella.

"Doctor!" He brought the gun out and drowned her out.

"DOCTOR WHO! DOCTOR! DOCTOR!" The accents disappeared, replaced by a nasal mockery of her urgent tone.

Missy stopped abruptly, but the rigidity of her posture said enough. When she turned to him, eyes filled with ice, his remaining doubts dissipated. The injured pride that morphed to rage in her eyes was the same look he saw in the mirror every day for the past ten years.

As she advanced on him, he ensured the gun was between them. Now he needed time to explain.

"Listen to me" she commanded, stepping forward slowly. "I may be about to take that silly little gun from you-"

"He'll never forgive you, you know. He'll never set you free," he interjected hurriedly. Her patience was wearing thin as they treaded around each other, hand and face trembling with barely controlled bloodlust.

Grim satisfaction broke the surface. "Not after he discovers what you did, to his little friend."

Smirking, she continued their deadly dance. "I haven't done anything, to his silly little friend."

"Oh but I'm afraid you did. A long time ago." Unease coloured her expression as they paused, standing opposite each other.

"Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?" The flippant guise had returned, but there was only one step left anyways. "Would it help you focus if I extracted some of your vital organs and made a lovely soup?"

The Master allowed himself a smirk of his own. "You would never be so….self-destructive"

"So WHAT?" she hissed, stepping so close that the barrel of the gun was jammed into her chest. Two heartbeats were clearly discernible through the vibrations, beating evenly and without fear.

Chuckling, he removed the head from her body and pointed it in the air. "Then again, neither would I." The gun clattered on the floor.

Something shifted in her expression as he stepped past her but her impatience was obvious as he laid out the next statement.

"I love disguises! Do you still like disguises?" Eyes were closed now, the last vestige of her self-restraint slipping away.

"Of course, they are rather necessary, when you happen to be, someone's FORMER PRIME-MINISTER!" Missy's eyes opened in astonishment as he spoke the last three words, peeling off the flesh mask in the process.

"Hello Missy, I'm the Master. And I'm very worried about my future." The Master revelled in her confusion, approving of the way which the initial shock subsided quickly as she assessed the way he was dressed.

"You couldn't have thought of a more suitable attire?" Missy's tone was acidic.

"I have something more appropriate, no need to concern yourself with that at all." The narcissism was well-placed as a malicious smile found its way onto her face.

The Master's expression mirrored Missy's. "I'm sure you realise now what has happened" he remarked, stepping out of the ragged costume to reveal a sophisticated black suit.

"Oh, and am I to take it that poor Bill is…" she trailed off with a knowing expression.

Raised eyebrows were the only confirmation required. "Well, you all took so long. I was getting bored." Neither of them hid the sadistic glee in their smiles.

Facing the door which the Doctor entered in unison, they began striding towards the operating theatre as he relished in the experience. Neither of them needed any instruction, peering around the edge of the door that opened into a delicious scene.

The Doctor and Nardole stood before the fully converted Mondasian Cyberman. His _masterpiece._

Working with himself wasn't what he'd anticipated, but as they watched the Doctor lay a hand on Bill's chest unit, the experience gained a new thrill with his equally malevolent counterpart expressing glee identical to his own.

"Bill," the Doctor breathed, aghast. "Tell me. What have they done to you?"

"Operation Exodus." Nardole replied softly. "Whatever that is."

"Well, wrong name for a start." Missy's shapely form streaked through the theatre, moving to stand beside the Cyberman, face unreadable.

"More of a beginning really."

He admired the female incarnation's sense of melodrama as he strode in to follow her lead.

"In fact…I'd call it a genesis."

The Doctor's horror was palpable as they stood on both sides of the mutilated human, sadistic urges at their zenith. All eyes were on him, Missy waited for him to finish their victory.

"Specifically, the Genesis of the Cybermen."


End file.
